Free Chocolate Most Deadly (Sky High Pies Cozy Mysteries Book 2) by Mary Maxwell Page B

of slightly crooked teeth. “I’ve
heard a lot about you from Trent.”
    I shook his hand, acknowledged the
comment about my high school flame with a slight nod and then introduced
Viveca.
    “I’m really sorry to hear about the
situation with your brother, Miss England,” Caldwell said as his smile shifted
toward something between friendly and distant. “And I don’t know how much I can
help, given the circumstances. But Trent’s a good guy, so I wanted to at least
say hello since you’ve come down to the city today.”
    I checked Viveca’s face. She looked
dismayed and touchy. Before she could say anything regrettable, I thought it
would be best to jump in.
    “Thanks for taking a moment to meet
us,” I said, smiling at Caldwell. He was a tall blond with broad shoulders, a
trimmed beard and a deep tan that suggested he liked to be outdoors as much as
possible. “We’re just trying to make some sense out of a fairly
incomprehensible situation.”
    He smiled. “That’s my daily
challenge, Kate. But you probably know that world well, right?”
    “I run a bakery café,” I said.
“It’s not as complicated as what you do.”
    “Okay, sure,” he said. “But Trent
told me about Chicago; you worked as a PI for a few years after college,
right?”
    “Yeah, the art history degree
seemed like a good idea when I was eighteen. But it didn’t exactly set me up
for a rewarding post-collegiate life.”
    Viveca sighed. “Can we maybe get to
my brother?”
    Caldwell shifted toward her. “Look,
Miss England,” he said with genuine warmth. “As I’ve already told you, there’s
not much I can do since Tim’s involved with an active investigation. I’m sorry
that you’re caught up in this, but his alibi hasn’t been verified and we have
an eye witness that places him in the victim’s hospital room just before Mr.
Singer’s body was discovered.”
    Viveca heaved another sigh. “I
don’t care what anybody says! My brother is innocent, okay? There’s no way he
would hurt that guy.”
    “It’s gone past hurting Mr. Singer
at this point,” Caldwell said slowly. “The man was murdered; suffocated in his
hospital bed while being treated for ingestion of a poisonous substance. And we
have an eyewitness who saw your brother entering Singer’s room a few minutes
before the poor guy was found with a pillow over his face.”
    Viveca’s head fell forward. “I will never believe those lies,” she said, her chin pressing against her
chest. “I know my brother.” She slowly lifted her gaze to the detective’s face.
“And you don’t, okay? Tim’s a good boy. He wouldn’t do anything like
this.”
    Caldwell nodded. “I can appreciate
how you feel,” he said. “But we’ve got a job to do. And that is identifying the
perpetrator with evidence and eyewitness testimony. At this moment, unless our
team confirms Tim’s alibi or finds clues that point us in another direction, it
doesn’t look very good for your brother.”
    We stood in silence for a few
seconds. I listened to the sound of the flags in the wind overhead and their
metal grommets clicking against the poles. Caldwell pulled out his phone again.
He squinted at the screen and started to swipe the display when Viveca suddenly
reached out and took his arm.
    “What about motive?” she asked.
“And the poison? How would my brother get his hands on cyanide?”
    The detective flinched at the
unexpected contact. He looked down at the pale fingers looped around his wrist
before smiling again at Viveca.
    “Motive?” he said blankly.
    “Yes, what’s the motive?” Her face
had suddenly gone from tight and anxious to hopeful and bright. “Why would my
brother kill his neighbor?”
    “Viv?” I said, trying to intervene.
“We should probably let Detective Caldwell go to his meeting.”
    She ignored me and squeezed the guy’s
arm tightly. “Tell me, detective,” she demanded, finally releasing the grip and
lowering her hand. “If you’re so convinced